


The Risk Series 6:  F-Risky New Year

by KS_POI_Pretender_Fan



Series: The Risk Series [6]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan/pseuds/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John needs Zoe's assistance on New Year's Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Risk Series 6:  F-Risky New Year

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thanks to SassyJ and my pretender buddy (you know who you are) for the quick beta.

**F-Risky New Year:**

Another New Year's spent alone. It had been quite some time since she had had someone to celebrate the New Year's with. Most of her holidays had been spent working to block out the loneliness that was her invariable companion; until this year. John's presence, though sporadic, helped enormously. But unfortunately, this New Year's Eve, he was working.

Zoe pulled her coat a little tighter then wrapped her arms around her lean body. She considered that she was out of her ever-loving mind, because seriously what was she doing? Less than an hour ago, she was in her pajamas in bed waiting for the ball to drop to signal the beginning of the New Year. Now it was close to midnight and she was walking amid total strangers – who were enjoying themselves way too much given that it was colder than a witch's ti - - her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. "Zoe Morgan," her usual greeting carried with it an added bite, for she knew who the caller was.

"ETA?" John asked cryptically.

"Five minutes, Houston," Zoe quipped. An hour ago, John had sent her a cryptic text with the location of a hotel by Times Square and that he needed her assistance. He then proceeded to get on her last nerve by calling her every ten minutes wanting to know her location. All she could think of was that he better have a good reason for calling her out into this insanity that was New Year's Eve. After several more gropes to her rear end which were unwelcomed, she finally arrived at her destination.

Fuming, she rode up the elevator to where the penthouse suites were. Using the card key that was left for her at the front desk, she entered the room indicated by John's text, ready to make her displeasure known. She hoped for John's sake that this late night summons on New Year's Eve was important, otherwise, she would have to reconsider their arrangement. Zoe Morgan does not drop comfy pajamas, the warmth of her bed in the comfort of her home for just anything.

The moment she stepped inside, the dimmed lights and the view outside the balcony doors stopped her short. There didn't seem to be anyone around so she cautiously called out, "John?" She walked up the hallway towards the back of the penthouse where she identified glass paneled doors leading to the balcony.

There was still no sign of anyone when she reached the doors to the balcony. Stepping through, she pulled her coat closer around her to ward off the chill.

"Ever watched the ball drop on Times Square, Zoe?"

"Not this close. . ."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked as they both watched the glowing ball drop. He had come up behind her and slid his arms around her from behind resting his chin on top of her head.

"Mmm," she responded as he felt her head bob up and down.

"Happy New Year, Zoe."

She smiled. "Happy New Year, John."

* * *

When they had accomplished counting down to the New Year, they ventured back into the suite. Zoe was touched to find not only champagne, but her favorite indulgence; Haagen-Dazs Vanilla Swiss Almond. Not only that, he had a pair of flannel pajamas for her complete with fuzzy socks.

 _Did this man know me or what?_ She thought, but instead said. "Are we having a slumber party?"

She loved Vanilla Swiss Almond and sitting around in her pj's. It was going to be a long night, or rather morning, so she settled on the floor leaning against the sofa. Zoe took another sip of her champagne, then another, then another. By the time John reappeared with spoons for their ice cream, her glass was drained.

"You're nearly empty," he observed with a slight tilt to his mouth and immediately topped off her glass.

"You don't have to get me drunk to have your way with me, John." Zoe said coyly. "You had me at Haagen-Dazs," she teased.

Shooting her a playful look out of the corner of his eye he handed her a spoon before settling next to her on the floor. And thus, they began enjoying their ice cream and champagne in comfortable silence.

Picking up a book from the couch, she asked. "How did you get a copy of my high school year book?"

"I never name my sources," John said wondering how long it would take Zoe to figure out how he managed to get that particular copy.

Zoe was flipping through the pages before she paused. "Wait, this isn't a copy, this is mine. . ." she shot John an accusatory stare, then laughed. "How much did you pay her?"

John shrugged one shoulder smirking. "A new DS game and some candy."

"Have I taught that girl nothing? Katie should have asked for two DS games," she muttered, realizing that she really didn't mind that he had involved Katie in this covert op. This was John; he had his ways; all endearing, not that she would ever admit it.

"Want to play a game John?"

"It's not illegal is it," he asked giving her the sideways look with the uplifted eyebrows which always meant that he really wasn't sure if he wanted to do it; but decided to play along.

"When has that ever stopped you? How about Truth or Dare?" she asked mischievously, putting the ice cream carton down and turning to face him.

He slowly nodded his head, unsure. "I think I vaguely remember that game from middle school," he hedged.

''Here's how it's suppose to work. You or I ask the other what they want to do; either truth, dare, or double dare. Truth means answering any question honestly. Dare means you have to do anything I dare you to do. Double dare means we both have to do the dare," Zoe explained.

"Some versions go into torture, promises and kisses, but we don't need that do we? At least, I shouldn't have to explain it to you. I can certainly vouch for the fact that you know how to kiss," Zoe winked at John as she got on her knees and leaned into him playfully.

Zoe pressed her lips softly to his and he opened his mouth instinctively responding. He licked her lips with his tongue, nipping lightly with his teeth. Zoe lazily ran her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his as she explored his mouth, then pulled away. "Yep, I think you get the gist of it, you go first," she said licking her lips and sitting back down stretching her flannel clad legs over his lap, arms outstretched behind her propping herself up.

John stared at Zoe thinking to himself that there shouldn't be a way for her to look alluring in flannel pajamas, but by God she did. "Dare."

"Take my top off, no hands," she commanded impishly the overabundance of champagne and lack of solid food had obviously gone to her head.

Never one to run from a dare or a fight, John gently moved her feet off his lap then got on his hands and knees as he proceeded towards her maintaining eye contact the whole time.

Zoe gulped, thinking that she may have just stopped breathing. She was still leaning back on her hands when John planted his hands on either side of her hips. His face just inches from hers, he leaned in to kiss her softly before turning his attention to her pajama top.

"Don't move, stay completely still," John said in mock seriousness as he began to use his teeth and his tongue on not only the buttons of her top, but also on any body part that was subsequently revealed. He nipped and licked and tugged at her breasts as they were exposed, then continued on to her stomach, leaving a wet, quaking trail of kisses. With amazing skill, John had managed to turn Zoe into a liquefied bundle of nerves, as he completed his dare by using his teeth to pull the sleeves off of her arms. With the pajama top pooled on the floor hanging by the cuffs off of Zoe's wrists, John gave her the biggest toothiest grin. "Your turn."

"Indeed it is," she responded as she shook off the cuffs of her top and pushed him back to lean on the couch.

"Hey! You haven't picked . . ." he started but was shushed by the look in her eye. She arched her brow at him and advanced towards him and lowered her head towards his waist. The sight of Zoe's head floating over his groin was almost too much.

Zoe looked up and met his eyes. "Fair is fair. Don't move," she said carefully and began to tug at John's belt with her teeth. With surprising proficiency, she managed to undo his belt and pulled it away from his pants. She pondered his fly then lowered her head working at the trouser hook. As she got it free, she studiously went to work on lowering his zipper excruciatingly slow. Fair is fair indeed and as soon as he was completely free, Zoe subjected him to the same treatment he had subjected her to.

"Someone better pick double dare," Zoe jibed.

"I double dare us to . . . like bunnies," John replied, part of his response muffled by his undershirt being pulled over and off his head. Quickly dispensing with the rest of their clothing, John sat on the couch and pulled Zoe closer. John rested his hands on her hips as their lips met. He lifted her up and held her against him as he slowly lowered her slowly onto his lap.

His hips pitched upward as her breath shortened both of them gasping as she sank down, taking him fully. He cupped one breast, gently tugging and swirling eliciting a soft moan. She bit her lip as John surged upward once again hitting just the right angle. John tangled a hand in Zoe's hair bringing her head down for another kiss. His face flushed as she dropped her head to kiss his chest and then his mouth once more. Rocking together in perfect rhythm, they reveled in the range of sensations that coursed through them.

"Look at me," John gently commanded. Zoe opened her eyes and looked right down at him, their eyes locked, the indescribable connection made. Eyes remaining locked his fingers sought and found their target, pressing against her making her gasp. Feeling the built up tension in her belly, Zoe leaned forward changing the angle, resting her forearms against the back of the couch, right by John's head. He grasped her hips guiding her to increase her movements. They kissed roughly, tongues dueling for dominance as her breasts brushed against him with each move.

The pressure built up to its ultimate goal as Zoe gave herself up to John, to the bliss, gasping his name and gripping his shoulders. She felt the cry leave her throat, and surrendered completely to the deluge of rapture.

John, so completely entranced by Zoe, by those soft gasps and the sound of his own name whispered by her lips, soon joined her in pleasure.

* * *

"Why are we here John," she asked. She understood that he wanted to do something nice for her and that was just John. But she felt as if there was an underlying reason for her summons.

"Contrary to the obvious, it wasn't because of this. . ." he waved a hand towards their naked bodies twined together under the covers, her back to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

At her continued silence, John said softly, "I wanted to get to know more about you."

"I thought you knew everything about me," she replied.

"I know some things about you, but nothing you've told me directly. It would be easy to ask Harold to find out everything about you, but it wouldn't feel right. I want you to tell me about you, I don't want to get to know things about you because I was listening in on a conversation you had with someone else," John said. This, Zoe knew was John's way of ensuring that what she told him was information that was freely and willingly given.

"There are things I'm not comfortable talking about, never have been and probably never will be," she warned sitting up in bed to face him.

"Tell me anything, everything you want to tell me," John said staring at their clasped hands.

"Will you do the same," she asked lifting her questioning eyes to his.

"What I can, of course," he nodded.

"Okay." She sat up and reached down to the floor to pick up her year book. She opened the yearbook to a page and pointed to a picture.

John looked down, and gave a small smile. "Of course, Debate Team Captain."

Chuckling, Zoe replied, "Never lost a match my senior year in 198 - - ahem."

Zoe studied John, "I'm guessing you were what . . . McDonald's All American?"

John shook his head, impressed that she would guess his sport in high school. "Not quite, I hurt my foot my junior year, sidelined most of my senior year."

"Girl most likely to succeed?" John pointed to a list of most likely to's in her year book.

"I was competitive, even back then," she quipped shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh, Christ," John gasped, staring at her senior picture. "That's you?"

Feigning incredulity, she pushed him off the bed. "Hey! It was the eighties for God's sake. Mall hair, big plastic glasses, parachute pants, and goomies were the height of fashion!"

"If you say so," John replied with a smirk and a sideward glance as he climbed back into bed grabbing her hand again.

"Like you didn't have a mullet and walk around with double polo shirts with the collars flipped up. Let me guess pink and yellow. Am I right?"

"It was the McGyver Mullet not the Billy Ray Cyrus Mullet and it was a light blue polo shirt with a baggy blazer up top."

"I bet you were prom queen or home coming queen?" John smiled crookedly but immediately felt her tense.

"No, not so much. Too brainy, early admission into Columbia, with a dad that was a dirty politician . . . you fill in the blanks." John imagined it hadn't been easy for Zoe being judged based on something her father had done.

"What about you? Court jester," she asked trying to lighten the mood.

It was John's turn to chuckle. "No, but I did date the girl that was prom queen."

"Of course you did," Zoe said

"If I had met you back then . . ." John started.

Zoe sighed. "We wouldn't have run in the same circles John. The guys that didn't need me for my brains, wanted me for something completely different," she said with surprisingly no bitterness. "High-school was like that."

"College was better though right? Columbia? Early Admission . . . Impressive. . . "

"I suppose . . ." she hedged. She knew the conversation was going to lead up to Columbia Law and everything that came with it. She just wasn't sure she was ready to talk about that time in her life.

"You? College then what, Army?" She had only supposed he was military because of the efficient manner in which he did things, but was only then confirmed by his simple nod.

"Did you ever marry?" John asked tentatively.

"No," she answered quickly, swallowing hard and looking away, hiding what she didn't want John to see; hurt and sadness. "There was someone once . . . Evan"

"What happened?"

"He went missing, then months later I found out he died," she mumbled still avoiding John's eyes, still trying to hide the pain of loss.

What Zoe didn't realize was that John didn't need to see her face or her eyes to feel her pain. He just did, this connection between the two of them was what it was. There was no explanation, and he had long stopped trying to define it.

John sighed and pulled her close for a hug. Zoe leaned into him, in awe at how natural it felt to just be with him. John tucked her head beneath his chin and just held her, rubbing her back. She sighed in contentment feeling safe and being able to tuck away the pain of the past.

"I was close once too," John admitted, though unsure as to how much he could talk about Jessica. He definitely wasn't ready to talk about the specifics of his relationship with her and how she had made him feel, but he was positively ready to open up just a bit to Zoe. So he told her about Jessica, how he almost left the army to be with her, but then 9/11 happened.

"Several years later, I was away when I received a call from her asking me to come for her." But he was too late. He had been sent to Ordos with Kara and instead of coming for Jessica in twenty four hours like he promised, it was several days and by then it was too late.

Zoe looked at John closely and emitted a heavy sigh. Gently taking John's face in her hands, she stared intently into his eyes and began softly, "What happened to Jessica . . ." Zoe started to say, but was interrupted by the look John gave her, which made it evident that he didn't want to discuss it further.

Not to be deterred, Zoe added, "What happened to her was not your fault. The person to blame was her husband. You cannot save everyone, John. I know it hurt more because it was someone you truly cared about. But please, stop blaming yourself. You're a good man John."

John fought to keep a reluctant smile from emerging. Failing pitifully, he looked away from her and grumbled, "I hate it when you do that."

Grasping his face again, she turned him to look at her and asked, "Hate when I do what?"

"I hate it when you seem to know exactly what I'm thinking, when I'm thinking it, and damn it sometimes before."

"Of course I do. You forget that I know this John," she said putting her hand on his chest. "I don't know the old John, and someone once said that it wasn't who you were, but the man you are now that matters. You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered then wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him, and kissed her deeply.

* * *

Zoe lay awake in John's arms, recalling the events of this past New Year's Eve as she relished the sound of his deep, rhythmic breathing, his heart beating against her back and the feel of his warm breath in her hair. Sighing, she burrowed closer to his warm body. Their relationship was complicated, the basis of which was a deep-seated understanding of each other. The slim filament of trust had somehow over the last few months fortified into a heavy gauge cable, and the chemistry - palpable, stimulating, and even a little electrifying. It was what it was, beyond description.

The End


End file.
